


Sensitivity to Scent

by RarePairFairy



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Confession, First Kiss, M/M, Role Reversal, Scent Marking, Werewolf Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-07
Updated: 2014-02-07
Packaged: 2018-01-11 11:23:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1172459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RarePairFairy/pseuds/RarePairFairy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott is used to Stiles being a werewolf. He's used to Stiles being tactile. But he's not used to Stiles being a tactile werewolf, and somehow, that's different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sensitivity to Scent

‘So I was talking to Deaton about wolf habits,’ Scott said, a little too loudly.

That was usually the dead giveaway. Scott knew that Stiles could hear him tying up his shoes at the end of a noisy school corridor, but here they were sitting two feet apart on the floor in front of a muted TV playing playstation games and Scott was almost using his outdoor voice.

‘Have I been doing weird stuff?’ Stiles asked automatically.

‘What? No,’ Scott said rapidly. The speed of his words wasn’t necessary to convey the nerves tangibly rolling off him in waves.

Sometimes it worried Stiles. Hearing people’s lungs at all freaked him out enough to begin with, but hearing the mild difference between Scott’s lungs and other people’s was slowly but surely turning him into a mother hen. He could tell several seconds in advance if Scott was about to need his inhaler, before even Scott began to feel it.

That had been one of the first giveaways. He had been insisting to Scott that he was a werewolf for three days, and the full moon had to come and induce a set of fangs and claws and bizarre cheek-fuzz before Scott believed him. That incident had more of a supernatural feel to it than Stiles turning out to be good at lacrosse, at least, but he had still said “I told you so” after learning how to talk through the fangs without lisping.

So that was a part of their lives now. That, and the creepy leather-jacketed guy who lived out in the woods in a burned-out house. But Stiles didn’t talk much about him, except to sarcastically call him “sensei” over the phone when he called in the middle of games night.

‘I trust in your boss to know his canines from his canids, dude, but I think Derek’s got the wolf angle covered,’ Stiles said, in response to Scott’s “casual statement”. Scott huffed.

‘Can _Derek_ tell you why I’m starting to smell different?’

Stiles’ ears perked at that. He had been hoping Scott wouldn’t notice.

‘Smell different how?’ Stiles stalled, scratching absently at his chin.

‘I mean, I’m starting to smell a little like you,’ Scott said with a small wry smile. ‘The cats at work don’t like me anymore, especially not on days after I’ve been hanging out with you.’

Stiles shrugged slowly. ‘I guess we spend a lot of time together.’

‘You didn’t use to rub up against me.’

‘Dude, I _do not_ rub up against you!’ Now it was Stiles’ turn to talk a little too loudly to be unsuspicious. Scott raised his eyebrows, then quickly paused the game before his cart crashed.

‘Not all the time,’ Scott conceded, and Stiles scoffed. ‘But, I mean, we were close to begin with, but lately even my mom has been asking questions. Like, you know what she asked me the other day?’

‘How’s the lacrosse coming along?’ Stiles did, in his best Scott’s Mom voice. Scott glowered.

‘No. She asked me if there was anything I’d like to declare. About you and me.’

Stiles took a moment to digest the information. It took a nanosecond longer than usual. The back of his brain had started registering a mild increase in temperature on Scott’s face, and that slight smell – the smell that occurred when Stiles wrapped his arm tightly around Scott’s shoulders or leaned into him during a class – was starting to waft outwards, like perfume. He’d been wondering about that smell.

‘Really?’ Stiles stalled, wondering fleetingly if he could get away with un-pausing the game.

‘Yeah, really. And I don’t know how long I can keep convincing her that there’s isn’t something to declare when you’re being extra-cosy with me all the time.’

‘Well I don’t see you taking off my jacket,’ Stiles said defensively.

Scott looked down, and pulled listlessly at the zipper of Stiles’ grey hooded jacket. The one Stiles had thrown onto Scott when Scott complained about it being chilly.

‘That was what reminded me actually,’ Scott said, now more quietly. But he didn’t take off the jacket. Stiles felt something like reassurance, and tried to ignore it. It was chilly. Of course Scott would keep the jacket on. ‘It reminded me of what Deaton said. About wolves spreading their scent around the pack.’

‘Yeah, kind of like how teams wear matching jerseys,’ Stiles cut in quickly, nodding confidently as if this was something Derek had told him. ‘You’re on my team, buddy. I guess the wolf in me has been trying to subconsciously tell you that.’

Scott smiled again, but this smile wasn’t wry. It puzzled Stiles a little. On the outside it looked the same. Crinkle-eyed and wide, unexpectedly pleased, like he’d been told a funny secret. But there was usually something that went along with this smile, and Stiles could tell it from a mile off. There was something missing. There was something … not hurt, just disappointed. As if Scott had been expecting something else. Maybe even wanting something else.

‘Oh,’ Scott said through his partly-false smile. ‘Thanks, man.’

‘No problem buddy,’ Stiles replied mechanically, and looked at the screen. But he didn’t register what was on the screen.

He thought about Scott’s smell, and how it was slowly changing to match his. He’d been giving Scott his jacket to wear, often standing close enough to touch him from shoulder to hip, he’d been sharing his lunch and propping his chin on Scott’s shoulder when approaching from behind. He hadn’t been consciously thinking of it as _couple stuff_ , because he had been in love with Scott for long enough and keeping it a secret for long enough, even constructing an elaborate red herring in the form of Lydia and his Great Tragic Unrequited Love Story entirely for Scott’s benefit. He had been in the frame of mind for years that Scott and he were Just Friends and that was all they would ever be. And they were close friends, who got into trouble together and trusted each other, to the degree that Scott, after overcoming the initial shock, had taken to the news that his best friend was a werewolf by saying “It’s okay, I still like you.”

So it hadn’t occurred to Stiles to think that changing the way he physically interacted with Scott, ramping it up only a couple of notches, wouldn’t go unnoticed. Scott had gone for years without noticing.

 _Maybe it’s another werewolf thing_ , Stiles told himself firmly, winning the round and dropping his controller to pump his fists in the air as if he hadn’t won the last three rounds as well. _I’m hyper-attuned to him, so I read every response more strongly. That’s all_.

‘Deaton described it as scent-marking,’ Scott said quickly, as if to get the statement out of his mouth as quickly as possible. Like off chicken. ‘Like when dogs pee on things that belong to them, like their territory and stuff.’

Stiles turned to face him with raised eyebrows. ‘Dude. Not cool. Gross. And no, I’m not going to pee on you.’

‘No, what I meant was …’ Scott bit his tongue and scrubbed a hand through his hair, looking exasperated. ‘I mean, Deaton described it as a possessive thing. Like, the wolf way of saying “this is mine”.’

Scott blushed, and Stiles could almost see the blood vessels under his skin, hear the sound in his ears, feel the light sweat on the back of Scott’s neck. He could see the very tenderness of his lower lip as Scott bit it, steadfastly refusing to look Stiles in the eye.

‘You think I’m saying you’re mine?’ Stiles asked hesitantly, quietly. For some reason the question felt like a leap in the dark.

‘I dunno. No. Maybe, I guess. Look, forget I said anything,’ Scott stumbled out the words in embarrassment and starting punching buttons with his thumbs on the controller, still deliberately refusing to look at Stiles even out of the corner of his eye.

Stiles felt up in the air. It was Scott who brought it up, and it was Scott who revived the subject after Stiles shot it down in fear. He wanted to talk about this.

Maybe Scott wasn’t as blind as Stiles gave him credit for. Maybe he was just shy and reluctant. Maybe this was his way of asking for the truth.

Stiles looked at the game, then looked back at Scott’s profile, outline illuminated by the screen. His face was warm. He smelled good. He smelled like Stiles.

Stiles heard a slight scratch and glanced down at his hands. His eyes widened. There were two little puncture-marks in the controller he’d picked up again, from his claws. They had come out without him realizing. He swore silently to himself. It was like fucking puberty all over again, being unable to manage his erections, only his erections now came in the form of sharp teeth and glowing eyes and claws that, if they came out in the presence of the new family in town which was apparently made up entirely of people who wanted him dead, he’d be … well … dead.

But they’d retracted all on their own, without him needing to go to the bathroom and calm himself down with the breathing exercises his therapist had taught him back when he still had panic attacks.

Stiles looked at Scott, silently hoping Scott would be looking back at him. He wasn’t. Maybe he was still waiting for the truth.

 _Stay calm_ , Stiles said to himself. _This year is evidently a year for change_ , he reassured himself. Now or never.

Leaning over, Stiles pressed a light kiss on Scott’s cheek, lingered for a moment, just long enough to steal an inhale of Scott’s skin at such close proximity, and then retreated to lock his own eyes on the screen. There was a silence, not unlike the silence following a shouting match or a distinctly terrible news story.

Stiles smelled and heard Scott before he felt him. The press of chapped lips on his cheek felt pure, chaste. Not least because Stiles had deliberately stopped himself from turning at the last minute and turning it into a French kiss.

Stiles did turn, but only when Scott was back where he’d been seated before, slightly hunched and facing the screen.

The smile on his face was entirely genuine this time, but his blush hadn’t gone away.

They got halfway through the next round when the tension that had been slowly but steadily mounting finally broke, and Scott pounced on top of Stiles. Stiles let him, and pretended to boot that he hadn’t seen it coming.

‘Dude, the fuck are you doing?’ Stiles laughed, without taking his hands from Scott’s waist. Scott had wiggled atop him once he got Stiles lying down, and hadn’t stopped wriggling. He did stop at the sound of Stiles’ voice, and looked down at him breathlessly, joyously, wrists framing Stiles’ face. His eyes became fond and a little wondrous, maybe a little glorious, but Stiles wasn’t going to try and put it into words.

‘I’m making you smell like me,’ Scott explained, beaming.

Stiles let that soak in. He slowly raised his knees at either side of Scott’s thighs and hips. Scott’s blush returned in full force.

Derek had told him once that it was nigh on impossible to be close to humans, especially humans who hadn’t been raised alongside werewolves and knew how to deal with them. Derek had told Stiles that he was a danger to Scott, as if he’d known all along that Scott was the only one who could really push all of Stiles’ buttons.

But Stiles knew one thing instinctively that not even Google would dislodge or change. He could never hurt Scott. Scott was the thing that kept him from hurting. Scott was the thing that cooled him down, warmed him up, and every temperature in between when needed. Scott was Stiles’ human side. Scott was Stiles’ human, full stop.

And now that he had this, he wasn’t giving it up. Especially not when Scott breathed out in that wonderful shaky way when Stiles leaned up to softly rest his teeth on Scott’s lower lip. Not a bite, no. He didn’t quite trust himself enough, or trust this fledgling bond enough, to try and bite Scott, even gently. But he rested his teeth on Scott’s lower lip, then he closed his lips and it became a kiss, and Scott leaned down, bore down into it until Stiles’ head was against the carpet.

Neither of them had much practice, but they didn’t need it, not when Scott’s mouth tasted like chocolate and coconut and Stiles’ teeth brushed deliberately against Scott’s lips with every movement. Scott shifted his elbows above Stiles’ shoulders and lifted his head, pupils dilated, mouth hanging open, and that smell, that smell was becoming so obvious that Stiles was both turned on and embarrassed that he hadn’t figured it out before. Lust. Lust was rolling off Scott in waves, and it was all for him.

‘Wow,’ Scott said, staring down at Stiles.

‘Yeah, I know, right?’ Stiles breathed, letting his hands roam around Scott’s lower back.

‘No, I mean, wow, your eyes are glowing.’

Stiles’ eyes widened and he ran his tongue quickly over his teeth. No fangs. Thank god.

‘It’s okay, I can tell you’re still _you_ ,’ Scott said with a simple smile, as if he too could read Stiles with his ears and nose.

Stiles wrapped his arms around Scott’s waist and held their bodies together while they explored each other’s kiss, revelled in the way Scott trusted him, in the way Scott didn’t retreat from him when his heart did start to pound at the feel of Scott’s erection rubbing against his, in the way with every swipe of his tongue Scott was starting not just to smell like him but taste like him. He marvelled at the overwhelming smell of _want_ that was languidly filling his senses, in all of the evidence that Scott did want him. Wanted him badly.

He let his claws come out, and watched them retreat. He let his eyes glow, let his teeth ache, let himself trust Scott. He let Scott soothe and tame the wolf inside him.

He wondered smugly how much detail he’d leave in when he told Derek about this tomorrow.


End file.
